


La Vie Est Un Carnaval

by whimsicalmuse



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Filming Lord of the Rings (Movies), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>?Waited six years, Billy. Watching you, wanting you, but you never got it, did you??</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

“I’d like to propose a toast.” A quiet fell over the crowd, full of soft smiles and glittering silverware. Dom tugged at his tux jacket.

_“Waited six fucking years, Billy. Watching you, wanting you, but you never fucking got it, did you?”_

“When Billy first told me about Ali, he got this small smile on his lips, and a light in his eyes I’d never seen before, and I knew. She was The One.”

_Dom spread his legs for leverage, fingers tugging at his shirt, pulling at the buttons, until his flushed chest was exposed. He snatched at the clasp to the long heavy layers of the black dress kilt, until the material fell away, revealing Bill’s erection._

“Later I would get to know her, and watch the two as they fell in love. She is an amazing woman.”

_Dom wrapped his hand around Bill’s cock, uneven teeth biting into the red skin of his neck, bruises flowering just below the neckline and along his collar. He murmured against the man’s warm skin, his eyes stinging._

_“You’re leaving me now, Billy, going to walk out that door. Can’t let this happen without having you, just once, please. Please, Billy.”_

_“Dom —” His voice cracked miserably as he protested, even as he snatched open Dom’s pants, tugging them down to his ankles, and then spinning the taller man around, pressing him against the stall door so hard it rattled. His want flared and bloomed, swallowing them both as the smell of their desire and ache filled Bill’s nostrils, and he snapped._

_“Going to give you something to remember me, Dom.” And then he sunk into him with a sharp intake of breath._

“Billy and I, we’re best mates, ya know? We went many years just the two of us, BillyandDom, they said. And when he told me he was getting married, I was kinda sad, yeah? I felt like I’d have to give Billy away.”

_Billy rested his wet face against the back of Dom’s neck, his breathing erratic, as he grabbed Dom’s waist, moving rapidly, too shaken to even thrill at the soft noises Dom made, shuddering as he felt Billy move within him. Too soon the angry, panicked burn spread low in Billy’s belly, radiating to his back, as he came — barking out a wet cry against Dom’s ear as the other man shivered._

“But today, I am giving Billy away. I thought I would be sad, or that things, would change forever, but I’m not because I’m not losing a friend, I’m gaining one. And no matter what, Bill and I will be friends. He’s Ali’s now, and while I’m still a bit sad the boys’ club didn’t last forever, I don’t think I could have ‘lost’ Billy to a better person. They have my heartfelt blessing. So with a nostalgic but happy heart, I offer this toast to Bill and Alison.”

“TO BILL AND ALISON!”

_Billy slid into his jacket, hands still damp from the faucet, as he walked with numb legs out of the bathroom, never speaking a word to Dominic. Once outside he paused, pulse still racing, and with a soft exhausted sigh he leaned against the wall, sliding down until he rested against his heels. As the noise of fine silverware clinking against glasses trailed over from the garden, the first angry tears fell down his face. He buried his face in his hands. Inside, the sounds of Dom’s anguished crying struck him like a physical blow, and he winced, choking back a sob._

He was a monster. The Bogeyman in a carnival freak show.

“Where’s Billy?”

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and pulled himself up, sniffing and swiping the wetness from his face. He couldn’t be seen like this — it was his wedding day, for Christ’s sake. He thought he heard Orlando’s gentle rumble announce his decision to go look for him, and he returned to the party, ready to put on his happy — albeit red-eyed — face.

Someone had just inquired after Dom and it’d do them no good to be accused of sneaking off together.

It was Orlando that found him, hunched over the toilet bowl, sore and retching between his tears. He’d helped him back into the stiff jacket, smoothed down his shirt, and wordlessly offered some warm, damp paper towels to clean his face. Once he was sure Dom was presentable, he led him back to the party, thin arm wrapped around him, supporting him.

“Come on, Dom, let’s get you back. You need to give the best man’s speech.”

And he’d done what they’d asked of him. He held the chill glass of champagne with shaking hands and a stiff smile as he watched his best friend join his wife for their first dance, waltzing out of his life and into her arms.

Though many knew Dom was breaking inside, they silently praised his determination, having no clue that with the ring on Bill’s finger, he’d been ruined for life.

The next several months would prove just how worried they should have been.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m worried about Dom.”

Of course, Sean was always worried about someone. Suffice to say, this was nothing new to Billy.

“How’s married life?” Elijah interjected, his eyes icy as the glass he clutched. Bill’s first response was to reply with a sharp retort, but then he softened, remembering that, despite how the lad seemed to know “exactly” how married life was for Billy, the two had never spoken about it.

Soft music tinkled in from the sitting room, where Ali would no doubt be engrossed in a polite discussion with Margaret, dutifully asking about their nieces and nephews, or perhaps inviting her to dinner next week when the cast wasn’t over.

She was always such a good wife. Perfect even.

Which made the fact that he was miserable all the more disgusting.

_“Is it lonely?”_

Viggo slipped in, stiff drink full of clinking ice cubes, and sunk onto a barstool.

“Man party?” He sipped the drink. “Good stuff, Billy.”

“Yep. We’re asking Bill here how’s life with the ole ball and chain,” Elijah announced, shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

_“Did the clown make you smile? He was only your fool for a while, and now he’s gone back home…”_

“What’s that you’re singing, Viggo?”

“Billy’s into bondage?” Sean quipped, a moment (or two) too late.

“It’s —”

“Bill, love, is dinner nearly done?” Ali breezed in, lips shining, and placed her wine glass on the counter.

All the men fell into a conspicuous silence.

“’Bout ten more minutes and we should be eating.”

She blinked, still noticing the sudden interest everyone took in their cups.

“Why didn’t Dom come?” she asked airily.

“He’s —” Bill began.

“I think we all know why Dom didn’t come,” Elijah supplied. Ali’s face stiffened.

“He’s not doing so well, hon. I’m sure he didn’t want to rain on your parade.”

Leave it to Sean Astin to save the day.

“It’s a shame,” she murmured, plucking up her glass again. “Haven’t seen much of him since we got married. Just thought with him being the best man and all…” She sipped her wine. “Ohh, dry. I just thought he’d come around more. Especially for our first anniversary,” she ended softly.

_“Is it lonely?”_

“Jesus that’s a depressing song, hen. Go change it, yeah? Is that what you were singing, Viggo?”

Ali returned to the living room, her sweet voice announcing the ETA of dinner.

“Dinner will be served in two beers — er, ten minutes — according to the man of the house.”

“Billy, we need to talk, man.”

“Elijah —”

“Your best friend is off in LA withering and you’re here slurping haggis and shagging your wife like nothing’s wrong!”

“Elijah!”

Billy blinked, a slow frown creasing his forehead.

“Let’s go, Lij. Before Billy has to kick your ass.” Sean pulled the young man by the arm, softly admonishing him for his rudeness.

“When you get married, sometimes things aren’t in black and white, Elijah.”

“And sometimes things are,” Viggo remarked, turning to study Billy.

“Viggo —”

“You’re unhappy, Bill. I’ve been there, and I’m just saying, you need to think about why.”

Billy rolled on his heels, his voice a low hiss. “S’not that simple; I took a vow.”

“And if that vow is based on a lie, it’s defunct,” Viggo hissed back.

“What would you know? You’re no different than I am. You can go to hell. Be true to yourself, my arse. “

“At least I’m not lying to the people I love. Hell, at least I’m not lying to myself, Bill. Did you think about that? You’re sitting on top of a house of cards, and when your lies crumble it’s all going to come crashing down.”

Billy set his jaw.

“I didn’t come here to preach, really. But damn it, Bill, your friend needs you. Think about that. At the very least try to save your friendship. Friends like Dom are one in a million.”

He slid off the stool, drink back in hand, leaving Billy to deal with the timer that was beeping.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe dinner is served.”

Hours later, when the dishes were done, and the numbing effects of too much wine and a forced banter had worn him down, Billy slid from their bed and crept onto the patio, shivering against the night air. He stared down at the silver phone in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the “talk” button until it hurt.

_Round and round, the carousel. It’s got you under its spell. Moving so fast, but going nowhere._

The ringing went on four times, before his friend’s voice pierced thousand of miles and a poor connection.

“Hey!”

“Dom, it’s Billy, I —”

“This is Dom. If you’re hearing this, that means you’ve missed me, and I’m really sorry. Please leave a message —”

Billy rang off, sliding the phone into his pocket, shoulders slumped.

“Billy?”

He looked up, smiling sadly at his wife.

“I’m coming.”

“What were you doing out there?”

“Just wanted to catch a sniff of fresh air, that’s all.”

“Could you not sleep?”

He paused, letting her into their room first.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well for months.” She frowned with worry as she settled under the covers. “You should see someone about that.”

He curled onto his side.

“You’re right, I should.”


	3. La Vie Est Un Carnaval

Someone once told Dom, “the faster you move, the less you feel,” and since the wedding he’d taken these as words to live by. So when the phone rang late one afternoon as he was walking out the door, he couldn’t exactly be arsed into pausing to get it. If they were having a serious emergency they’d know to call his mobile, and if they didn’t, then _tough shit_ , as Americans say.

But something held him back that day, just long enough to listen, and as he heard the answerphone take the call, he was rooted in his place.

“Hullo Dom, it’s Billy. I just — I just wanted to leave a message to see how you were doing. I’m kinda worried. The guys said you weren’t feeling so good. Anyhow, erm, I’ve called before and I can never seem to get a hold of you. I should’ve left a message but I just couldn’t. You know me, Dom. I hate leaving messages. Anyhow, I just wanted to say hi, and um, tell you to call me, no matter what time, when you get a chance. I miss you, Dom. All right, cheers.”

And there he stood, frozen as the whirlwind blew around him, still listening to the hiss of the machine tape as it ran, the low noise filling his empty, fast-paced life.

_Is it lonely?_

 

*

“I heard from Billy the other day.”

“Mmm?”

Elijah sighed impatiently.

“Yep. He said he’d been trying to get a hold of you but that you never answer your phone.”

“Prolly because I’m never home. You know that, Elijah.”

“He said he’d left messages. You never called back.”

Dom flicked the stump of his ciggy into the sand. Then he winced, cursing softly, and plucked it up off the beach throwing it into the trash bin, (after making sure it was no longer lit.)

Elijah still waited for an explanation.

“Get off it, Doodle, he left one bloody message —”

“A week ago!”

“A week ago, and I’ve been meaning to call him back, I just didn’t have a chance.”

Elijah dug for his mobile and pressed a button.

“We’re not particularly busy now, here’s your chance,” he growled, as he listened to the ringing.

“Elijah, wh-what are you —”

“Billy? Hey! How goes it? Yeah? That’s fucking awesome, man! Anyhow, Dom’s here and he wanted to talk to you, so —”

“Elijah, no, no!”

Dom briefly considered running away like a little girl, but somehow thought that might be a bit melodramatic.

“Bill? Hullo!”

The man’s voice chirped through the earpiece, just as cheery and heart-wrenching as always.

“How are you, eh? Married life treating you well?”

_Is it lonely?_

“Me? I’m doing well. I’ve been working a lot, actually. Just bits and pieces and such. Not to mention promotional shite for _Lost_ … Yeah, I think you should come out.”

Elijah beamed around his cigarette.

“Take a trip? That’d be great too. Yeah, the whole lot of us can go together….”

Dom looked over at his friend, who was staring out at the ocean and, (unbeknownst to him,) vowing to do whatever it took to make sure he was by no means available for this trip. He’d work on Sean, too.

“Okay then, Bills. Well, you call me when you get a ticket. I’m done on the twenty-third and that’s just in three weeks, so you can come out then…”

Three weeks.

He’d never survive the wait.

“All right. Talk to you soon. Nice talking to you, too. Cheers.”

He laid the phone lightly into Elijah’s palm as three minds began racing at once.

In three weeks, things would have to be set straight.


	4. Chapter 4

Billy never knew three weeks could move so fast. He felt like he hung up with Dom, readied himself to talk to Ali about the trip, blinked, and was packing for his flight the next day.

Throughout it all, Ali had been as civil as she had afforded since he asked her to stay home.

“I need to sort out my friendship, Ali. Alone.”

She didn’t pretend to like it, but she at least understood. She’d seen the fissure between him and Dom too, and while they weren’t as close, she knew his place in Bill’s life was vital to his happiness.

And in the end, she really did want Billy to be happy, right?

_Up and down the ferris wheel, tell me how does it feel, to be so high looking down here?_

_Is it lonely?_

Bill wasn’t a total bastard, he knew things with his wife weren’t prime either, but they’d have a whole lifetime to set things right. They’d get better with time. Hell, maybe they needed this break from one another just as much as he needed to work it out with Dom. Some days she could hardly stand to be in the same room with him without things dissolving into an argument about nothing.

But if she could hardly been in the same room with him, why then was she so pissed to see him go?

“I-I wanted to talk about our plans for the future, Billy. About a family, and —”

“So talk! I’m here!”

“I wanted to talk NOW, Bill, and you’re leaving.”

“Jesus, Alison, I’m coming back in fourteen days —”

“Billy, I stopped the pill three months ago.”

The world felt as if it’d bottomed out beneath him. And then the anger came — rage boiling up from his belly like fire in his esophagus.

“Alison...”

His voice was low, too low, and too controlled.

“And I’m late...”

“How late?”

He placed his hands on his hips, exhaling roughly through his lips.

”Jesus, don’t talk to me as if we’re two unmarried teens!”

_“How late, Alison?”_

She flinched. He’d never yelled at her, not like that.

“Just a day, so far.” Her voice cracked.

“I’m sorry, Jesus, I’m sorry.” He pulled her close, berating himself. What kind of husband — father — would he be if he was already yelling?

Already abusive.

“Hen, how long until you can test, until we can know?”

She sniffled. “Ten days. I figured I’d wait until you got back, we could go together...”

“Okay. That sounds like a plan.”

He kissed her forehead. “I love you. I have to go, I’ll miss the plane.”

She smiled wryly. “Would that be a bad thing?”

The anger simmered. “Yes. I have to work this out. I can’t keep hiding here.”

_Going nowhere._

*

Dominic was running late — would be late picking up Billy — and to make matters worse, he’d had a shite day.

He should have known he was jinxed from the moment he opened his eyes — as he got out of bed, tripped over the shoes he slid off and didn’t put to the side the night before.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, there was the yogurt he spilled on his shirt, drinking and driving down Cahuenga, multitasking just fine until some jackass leaped in front of him.

He breezed into the office, pink stain and all (hey, pink is the new black, he could work it), and, after a surprisingly nice exchange with his agent, she dropped it on him.

A script that had been offered to him — as a _lead_ — was a lead who will have to dance.

Salsa.

Now, why in the bloody hell she’d ever thought he’d be able to dance salsa was beyond him, but what was even odder was that he took the damn script, jaw cocked open and all, just because he had to admit — weird though the part was, it still was a lead.

Dominic, a dancer? Outside of a club?

Not so much.

But he took the damn script, winked, and promised to be nothing short of the Fred fucking Astaire of salsa when he got back from his trip with Billy and some mates.

Which, of course, reminded him.

Billy.

Cussing in a stream of words that fit together like a puzzle, he deliberated on his route to the airport — already twenty minutes late and _still_ in West L.A., miles from where he needed to be.

Sepulveda, he decided.

He’d somehow get the Sepulveda.

Because when he looked at the parking lot known as the 405, he saw a perfectly good Beetle mash head first into a late model Accord, and as the cars backed up and the police circled, he knew taking that freeway would be a disaster.

Of course, he also had the niggling thought that perhaps it was an omen.

So he dove for Sepulveda, finding that everyone else that had seen the accident had dipped his way too, but he didn’t care, really. Despite the choking smog and the silvery heat waves that danced across fucked up concrete, it _was_ nice to be out and about and _still_.

He couldn’t remember when he’d last been still.

Murphy’s Law would dictate that he’d catch every light, roasting in his black BMW, until he was so hot and so sweaty he didn’t even notice the change in climate, from the damp heat of West L.A. to the gentle sun and sharp, cool wind of Santa Monica and beyond.

But then the mists of the beach rolled inland, and he had to blink hard to see in front of him, though he still heard obnoxious bass from the Escalade in front of him, and smelled the choke of the Explorer’s exhaust to his side, and in the streets of Culver City he wondered just what the hell he was doing here.

He decided to get on the freeway.

The 405 between Jefferson and Century Blvd. was never a friendly place for those prone to tardiness, and that day was no different. The same far right lanes were under construction, the same watery haze still loomed, caring nothing about the angry sun above, and, as per usual, there were no less than four hundred cars on the road steered by drivers Dom was sure should have been in asylum.

He barely made it to the airport in once piece.

And exactly seventy-four minutes late.

If he was lucky, Bill would have been into his cups, and therefore wouldn’t _really_ notice how late he was.

Too bad he had shite luck.

Billy was very much sober, and very much red, sitting atop his suitcase, talking animatedly to a boy about trains, planes, and automobiles.

The young kid giggled before saying the same thing _every_ kid did: “You’re bigger in person, Mr. Hobbit.”

No one could speak so melodiously as Bill, in Dom’s mind.

Though a very large and wussy part of Dom wanted to pull Billy into a bone-crushing hug, knowing he’d smell the warm hint of coffee on his breath, mixed with hot leather and stale deodorant, Dom held back, because Billy wasn’t looking friendly at all.

In fact, the man looked royally pissed.

“You’re late.”

Dom wanted to launch into the perfectly good reasons he was indeed late, but it got worse — Billy didn’t want to argue, didn’t even want to talk about why he was there.

He just requested to be taken to Elijah’s house, where he could bathe and sleep.

Elijah’s house.

He wanted to be taken to Elijah’s house.

Elijah wasn’t home.

So Dom called Sean who called Orlando who hadn’t seen him but maybe Mackie did, so Dom ended with Sean’s bro, wondering if, of all things, Elijah had indeed ended up with an Astin, and grinned as he dialed the number.

Mack had no clue where Elijah was.

So then Dom called Elijah, got his voicemail, and left a tense message asking (silently _begging_ ) Elijah to call as soon as he got the message.

When he hung up, Billy was hovering, his face asking for an explanation.

“No answer.” Dom shrugged.

Billy cursed colorfully, and then Dom snapped, pissed that Bill wouldn’t just stay with him. When he told Billy so, Billy just laughed, his voice dry as ashes, and neatly informed Dom that he was in no space to spend the night with him alone.

His eyes suggested he couldn’t cope with one minute alone.

This, perhaps, was why Billy covered up the silence with radio.

The two had always listened to radio, but softly, if they were going somewhere, a sort of background track just like in the movies, and Dom liked it that way.

He loved to see how the scenery or situation always wanted to fit the song.

But that day Billy just had the radio on.

Dom was talented, but there was no way he could look cool and casual while listening to a commercial advertising the new Pearl tampons. By the time they were on Santa Monica Blvd., Dom had turned the fucking radio off, and Billy was more than pissed.

Elijah hadn’t called when Dom pulled into his driveway.

Elijah still hadn’t called as Dom gruffly informed Billy that _he_ might not be in a “space” to sleep in a house alone with Dom, but that _Dom_ certainly was. Billy and Dom were, after all, _friends_.

Elijah still hadn’t called when Dom threw a pillow at Bill’s head playfully, and was rewarded with a green-eyed glare.

Elijah hadn’t called when Dom ordered pizza, after asking Bill for a suggestion for dinner, and taking the silence to mean that anything was fine.

Elijah didn’t call when Billy emerged from a shower, towel slung low on his hips, rubbing the wetness away from the flushed, V-shaped patch of skin from his nape to the bottom of his sternum.

Elijah didn’t call when Dom yanked his eyes away, and decided to cross his legs.

He didn’t call when Dom gave into the silence at last, turning the telly low, turning to Billy, a stiff smile on his lips as he inquired about Ali and life back in Scotland.

Far, far away from Dom.

Elijah didn’t call (to save him) when Billy stared at him blankly, then turned to the screen again, mumbling something that sounded like, “Great. Wonderful. Couldn’t be happier.”

He didn’t call when Dom snapped off the lights and curled up in bed.

Alone.

Jaw tight.

Eyes stinging.

Because Dom couldn’t believe Billy was serious, not for one moment, and yet daren’t bring himself to tell Billy so, because the last time he opened his mouth and spoke his mind, he got a spoonful of misery, from which he still hadn’t recovered.

Billy’s first night in town, and he and Dom weren’t exactly on the speaking terms they’d hoped to be, but then, these things take time.

Right?

And Elijah hadn’t called. He’d left Dom ass to the wind, and Dom would have been really put out about it, really. That is, if the delicious hazy, tide he was so accustomed to hadn’t taken over, thanks to the little blue pills he kept in his nightstand, for really bad nights.

Tonight had been a really bad night.

And Dom needed more blue pills.


	5. Chapter 5

Billy woke before Dom, an occurrence that was not in the least unusual, considering the two never had the same sleep schedule. Besides, the time change was molesting his sleep cycle, so he was fully prepared to be up at all hours of the day for a few days until things evened out.

He staggered down the hall, shorts slipping down—they were Dom’s—until he found himself in Dom’s tiny, cluttered kitchen, in a desperate search for some tea.

Quickly.

His mind was slow, slower than usual, and it was only as the kettle began to warm, and his hands were wrapped around a mug, which he was looking down at with sleepy eyes, that he noticed a few things.

All the supplies he had used to make tea were covered in a thin layer of dust.

In fact, the entire kitchen was remarkably neat, for Dom, as if the man had not even used it for months.

He wondered at the state Dom was in if he had not even made _tea_.

Where had Dominic’s head been since he last saw him that tragic night of the wedding?

He looked down at his hands, absentmindedly twirling the heavy gold band, and sighed.

Maybe Bill had been unfairly cross with Dominic. It wasn’t as if he had planned on having Billy marooned in his flat. Billy saw as much from the frantic efforts Dom had undertaken to get a hold of Elijah, who was missing in action, the little shit.

Bill rubbed his lips.

He wanted a cigarette.

He hadn’t smoked in years.

He was no blind man, he’d seen how strained things had been with Dom last night, and that made things worse—if worse were even possible.

Where was his life if he couldn’t hold a simple conversation with Dominic—his best friend—without it dissolving into a quiet, bitter evening?

First Ali, now Dom.

Was he poisoning everyone?

At the rate he was going, he’d have run off everyone that cared for him. Maybe he’d have to move to the mountains and live under a bridge like some wee Scottish troll.

He snorted.

Sleep. Definitely needed sleep.

His eyelids slipped down, sweeping the bright kitchen in darkness, and just as he felt himself slipping into a strange place between sleep and waking, where the miserable song Viggo sang blasted in his head as if he stood by a speaker, he was jerked awake.

Dominic was speaking to him, his face scrunched up with worry.

_Is it lonely?_

“What?”

“I said, are you all right? You were pressed against the counter like some deranged nutter.”

He scrubbed his face, and exhaled.

“M’fine thanks. Just... tired.”

“I can relate.” Dominic mumbled, and then lifted his eyes to meet Billy’s.

For the first time since he’d arrived, Billy could see the blue circles underneath Dominic’s eyes, the fine lines around his mouth, and the pasty color of his skin.

He looked like shit.

Billy was glad. He was sure he looked like shit, too, and it was nice to not be alone.

“Ya look like shit, Dom.”

The tea kettle wailed.

“Haven’t been sleeping,” Dom mumbled, ignoring him as he pulled a mug down, ready to serve himself a cuppa when Billy was done.

Billy dug into the cupboard in search of the honey, and silently remarked at how similar to two were—both having sleep difficulty and all.

Perhaps they were just tired.

_Round and round, the ferris wheel._

Maybe they were both still… remembering.

_Moving so fast_

He took a sip of his tea and smirked.

_And going no where_

He would blame the time change. It was easier that way.

*

“Elijah, when I see you I’m kicking your arse.”

Billy stared at his damp face in the mirror and pulled on his shirt.

Already twelve-thirty and still Elijah hadn’t called.

Elijah hadn’t called, but Bethany the rental coordinator did. She was confirming their arrival for later that day, so that she might prepare the house.

Billy sighed—already tired and only two days into his vacation with friends—and looked at Dom.

He was perched on his windowsill, staring down into the overcast streets of West Hollywood, his face still.

He looked miserable.

“Hey, Dom?”

Billy felt a pang of guilt as Dom jumped. He was probably shocked, as that was the most Billy had said to him since breakfast.

“Yeah?”

“You still up for the trip?”

He rubbed his fingers over the top of his wrist—a habit he thought Billy didn’t notice—and looked back down onto the muggy street.

“You decide, Bill. It is your vacation. We haven’t got a hold of Elijah, and I can understand if you don’t want to go with me.”

Billy chewed his nail.

“Hello? Billy?”

Billy remembered the phone in his hand.

“Oh, hey, Beth?”

“You coming?”

He stared at the profile of his friend, and lowered his lashes.

“We’re coming, Beth. Get the cabin ready.”

Dom didn’t move.

“Great, I’ll have everything ready, have a safe drive.”

“Cheers.”

He rung off, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“We, ah, don’t have to leave really until half two or so, so I’m sure Elijah will return our calls by then.”

All seven of them, he thought darkly.

But he didn’t.

Billy, infuriated, decided to pack his bags, snapping again at Dom as he threw his belongings into Dom’s old BMW and cursed under his breath.

This was supposed to be a weekend for the guys, and yet the guys were missing in action.

Sean had a sudden obligation with the kids.

Orlando had a dinner with Kate’s family he couldn’t get out of.

And Elijah?

Just as they pulled onto the 101, Elijah called at last, but neither man heard the call.

They were in the gas station convenience store.

He left a garbled message apologizing for not calling—lost track of time, he said.

In the background, Billy distinctly heard _what_ had made him lose track of time.

Or _who_ , rather.

He sucked his teeth, disgusted, and stared at the rolling hills of the California coastline.

Elijah had ditched them for romance.

Billy was furious.

Dom, on the other hand, just drove.

He had something low and soothing in the CD player, with soft brass notes, and a gentle base, just enough to keep the pair awake, but not enough for them to want to dance.

Still the road persisted on.

When they reached Santa Barbara, Billy sucked in his breath at the sight of the small houses tucked at the base of cactus-covered hills, the air fragrant from the bloom of succulent flowers.

It was breathtaking, and almost made up for the irritation of the day before.

He must have dozed off at some point, because when he opened his eyes, they were in the outskirts of wine country—a plain of marigold grass and sturdy oaks. Clouds had rolled in overhead, and the road was dripping with gray fog, so much so it reminded Billy immediately of London.

And then he missed Ali.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and he shivered, though the air wasn’t cold in the least. In fact, it was sticky hot, and the windows were damp from their breath and the moisture in the air.

He turned to Dom, and Dom smiled softly at him.

“Good morning.”

He felt a blush creep of his cheeks, though he didn’t know why.

It wasn’t as if the two had ever woken up together—like that.

“How long was I out?”

“About two hours, I would say. We’re almost there now, in about an hour and a half according to the directions you gave.”

Bill stretched and cracked his joints.

“You should have woken me, Dom. I could have driven part of the way.”

Dom peered at him, with a look Billy couldn’t read in his eyes.

“You needed to sleep.”

His eyes then were clear with a silent message.

_You haven’t been sleeping._

Billy fell silent then. Because it was true, he did need to sleep, but also because he wondered if Dominic had always known just what Billy needed without asking, or if this was a new development.

Truth be told, Billy had never noticed Dom was so perceptive before.

*

Billy blinked in the wet darkness that surrounded the little car, and sighed. He was having one hell of a time seeing the exits on the no-name highway, and he wondered what he had done, renting a house in such a tiny community.

At last, he found their exit and pulled off the dark road onto an even darker one.

From what he could see, the town was truly a “one horse town,” as Yanks say, and the largest establishment he’d seen was a Chevron Station—which was closed.

He drove down the street that was said to be where their house was, and frowned.

He couldn’t find the addresses on all but two houses on the quiet street.

Overhead, lightning flashed, and Billy winced. He was frightened of lightning, though he dare not tell anyone. The brilliant white illuminated Dom’s sleeping face and he felt a twinge that radiated somewhere beneath his throat.

Dominic looked like a painting.

Like a dark watercolor.

The car crept along the street again, Billy thinking he had perhaps overlooked the place. He cursed softly under his breath as another turn of the block did nothing to reveal the location.

He woke Dom.

“What’s the problem?”

His voice was thick with sleep, and soft, too vulnerable for the mood Billy was in.

“I can’t see the damn house.”

Dom stared in front of them, narrowing his eyes at the flurry of slick water that the small wipers sloshed from the window.

“How can you see anything?”

He leaned forward diverting his gaze from the address to the houses.

“Stop,” he commanded gently.

Billy pulled the car to a stop in the middle of the street.

Dom looked from one side of the street to the other.

“It has to be on this side of the street.”

He motioned to the left side of the street, to a space that was overgrown with shaggy hedges that gave way to a tiny, over-grown driveway.

“There?” Billy asked incredulously.

Dom shrugged. “Look, as much as I wish it was there—” He pointed to the other side of the street at a stately, purple house that was some two stories tall. “—I’m pretty sure it’s there.” He motioned back to their mini forest of bushes.

Billy couldn’t resist a bashful crooked grin.

Dom smirked.

“Cheap, manky bastard.”

Billy feigned offense. Truth be told, Billy had expected a simple cabin, but not _this_ simple. Still, he knew both he and Dom had survived in worse locations.

They would survive in this.

“Oi, you said you wanted simple. Rustic.”

Dom shook his head.

“I didn’t want prehistoric.”

Dom grumbled as Billy pulled into the tiny driveway, which was overrun in a mudslide.

Billy didn’t, however, deny he was cheap.

He had, after all, decided to not cancel the rental once he remembered he’d lose his $500 deposit.

Not that he’d ever admit that to Dom.

Somehow he thought Dom already knew.

They wrangled out of the small car, getting soaked to the bone in the few short steps from the car to the porch. Dom, in his hurry to get in and under cover, tripped over the second uneven step and landed on the ground, cursing colorfully.

Billy stifled a laugh.

“S’not funny. How would you like a face full of bloody pine needles and pebbles…”

Billy sat his bag down, and helped the grumbling man up. He lost his balance, slipping on the slick stairs, and Dom scrabbled to save him. The two landed with a solid thud onto the porch, Billy atop Dom.

Dominic swallowed, his mouth open, blinking past the raindrops.

Billy worked furiously to catch his breath, though his limbs felt very heavy.

Maybe, maybe, somewhere deep inside, he had to admit it felt nice to be pressed atop a wet Dom.

“Bill?”

He blinked, wondering why he was breathing so hard.

“What?”

“You all right, mate?”

Billy shivered as Dom bent one leg at the knee, unintentionally bringing their hips closer.

“M’ fine, I just slipped, and lost m’ breath.”

Dom smiled.

“Well, if you’ve found it, could you get up? You’re crushing my bits.”

Billy ducked his head, and pressed his hands on either side of Dom’s neck, working to get himself up.

“Sorry.”

“Not a problem. It was my fault anyway.”

*

To call the tiny cabin “rustic” was being generous, by Billy’s interpretation, and that’s saying something.

He immediately re-thought his initial assessment.

If Bethany hadn’t stocked the place with firewood and snacks, he would have been quite pissed off, actually.

While Dom set out to find heat or some means to make a fire, Billy puttered about in the living area, testing the tiny telly perched in the corner of the room. He got nothing. Just static.

He sighed.

The rest of the room was simply decorated—a small loveseat, a plain wood dinette, as well as a tiny bookcase that was stocked with dusty novels. In the far right corner there was a small, empty walk-in closet.

From what Billy could tell, the best thing so far appeared to be the bathroom, which housed a shower that was truly big enough to hold half the cast of _Rings_.

He smiled.

He would at least have one luxury on this trip.

He washed his hands, and then called out to Dom, walking down the narrow hallway that led to the back of the tiny place. He froze, looking down at Dom, who was glowering at the fire he had started.

“What’s the problem?”

Dom looked up, his cool eyes glittering.

He looked over into the corner, and Billy bit back a groan.

One bed.

They had one fucking bed, and no other surface to sleep on.

Billy raked his hands through his hair.

“I can sleep on the floor—on that bear rug there,” Billy announced.

Dom shook his head.

“Billy, don’t be a wanker. We can sleep on the bed together; we’re both adults here.”

Billy shook his head, stomping down the hallway to the closet, in search of spare blankets.

“I’d be more comfortable sleeping separate, Dom.”

Dom sighed.

“Bill—”

“It’s not a reflection on you, Dom, I—”

“Forget it.”

Dominic stood up, brushing his hands against his jeans.

“You sleep on the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Dom—”

“And tomorrow, we’ll switch off.”

Billy closed his mouth.

That seemed fair enough.

Except in the middle of the night, Billy still found he couldn’t sleep—he felt too guilty seeing Dom curled up under blankets, close to the fire.

He worried the sparks would pop through the grate and set the blankets on fire. He worried Dom could get deathly ill from the cold of the floor. It had been warm earlier, but here near the water the temperature had dropped with the night, and it was downright cold now.

He tossed and turned, staring out the window, watching the thinning clouds float by lazily.

He was miserable.

“Dom?”

There was a long pause.

“What?”

“I—I think we’d be okay, um, sharing the bed.”

Dom didn’t answer.

“Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Get up here, ya daft numptie, you’ll catch your death down there.”

“You said you’d uncomfortable.”

“Well, I changed my mind, ya git. Get up here!”

There was a gentle rustle of sheets and blankets, and then a cold, lean body lay stiff against him.

The last thing he remembered, as he gave into the pull of sleep, was the sound of Dom’s soft breathing against his cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

That night Dominic had a dream. He was standing alone on a beach, arms folded, listening to the waves crash into the shore. With each wave the water crept closer, until he felt the gentle kisses from the bubbles left behind on his toes. The roar of the ocean grew deafening, and the sun peaked, blinding him with the brilliant light while he braced himself for the icy water that promised to swallow him whole.

He woke up, cold and sweaty—and with Billy curled up behind him, his hips pressing into Dom’s arse. He decided he must have been Judas in a past life to deserve such temptation.

Gently he disentangled himself from the smaller man’s sleep-embrace, and snatching one of the blankets that were bunched at the bottom of the bed, he padded barefoot down the small hallway, and out to the porch.

The sky was still overcast, though he suspected it would burn off by midday, and the air was slowly getting warmer with every minute. He stared at the overgrown backyard, which was quite large, and would have been great for games of cup—had the guys come along of course.

He was no fool, he knew a set up when he smelled one, and he was all but certain Elijah had told the guys to find something to do so that they could ditch Dom with Billy.

 _Probably some misguided reconciliation attempt,_ he groused, and pulled the heavy blanket around his bare shoulders.

A cluster of rose bushes were planted along the porch, and were swaying gently in the soft wind, their heavy fragrance wafting into Dom’s nose. His nostrils twitched. He had terrible allergies.

Billy would no doubt wake up just as cantankerous and secretive as the day before, and Dom was sure he would do something to aggravate the man, resulting in another multi-syllable insult. Dominic had a knack for pissing Billy off. At least he gathered not to discuss Ali.

A very small part of him rejoiced in Bill’s pain—that he should suffer in his marriage as Dom had suffered from the night he crawled back home, drunk and sore, still smelling Billy on his skin. He remembers crying again when no one was around to pull him back together, he cried until he was numb, and when he began to feel again, he sought whatever escape he could get his hands on.

Such as staying so busy he never had a chance to sit in the dark…remembering. He would watch videos of his time in New Zealand, when he was an open young man, helplessly in love with a Scot, who for all intents in purposes didn’t have a clue.

His guilelessness had been part of the attraction, but would prove to be Dominic’s undoing.

To make matters worse, though Dominic had indeed had his body, he never got his love. Billy had reserved that for Ali.

Maybe he thought that a quick fuck in the lavvy was what Dominic meant when he pulled Bill into the room, drunkenly slurring his deepest secret into Billy’s ear, while his hands clutched at Bill’s crisp shirt.

Dominic sighed, closing his eyes. Over a year later and he could still hear Billy’s growl, still could recall the smell of Billy’s skin. The memory kept him from sleeping at night, which was why he’d turned to getting help sleeping.

The new problem became in falling asleep without the help. His stomach twinged guiltily as he thought of the new dirty little secret he hid from Billy.

Dominic felt like a colossal fuck up. He was the circus clown who hid his tears when the crowd left and the big top packed up to leave.

A gigantic bumblebee buzzed down onto the blooms, and Dom watched, sleepily fascinated with the age-old process of the bee collecting nectar. Sometimes, his world seemed to stop caught up on one bitter moment, yet Dom realized, that despite his problems the world did indeed go on. Such observations were always humbling, part of why he so protected nature.

Bill’s heavy footsteps scraped against the desk behind him, and Dominic immediately tensed, wishing the day would come when he didn’t both long for and dread seeing his best friend.

Billy scrubbed at the back of his hair—a telltale guilty gesture, and Dom’s stomach rolled. He’d probably been talking to Ali. The mobile phone that was tucked into Bill’s shirt pocket was perhaps a dead giveaway.

He hid his discomfort; he had no right to object to the man talking to his wife. “Good morning,” He could play the role of secure cheerful friend, see?

“Morning,” Billy replied, yawning around the greeting.

“Ya sleep well?”

“Aye, I did.”

Dom smiled past the ache in his chest as he took in the sight of Billy, still wearing his pjyama pants, his hair sticking up in every direction.

Billy made him go all hard and soft all at once.

“So, what did you think you’d like to do today Dom?”

Dom sighed, inhaling the faint tinge of salt and thought for a moment.

He knew they were near a beach—could see the faint grey-blue outline between the bushes—so surfing was an inviting prospect.

They could hole up in the house, maybe Dom could paint and Billy could play the guitar he didn’t think Dom saw him pack.

Fate, it would seem, chose for them. Next-door, soft feminine voices traveled over to their deck. Curious, the two stepped down into the garden, peeping through the bushes, to discover two pretty women readying their car to go surfing.

Billy, a wicked smile on his lips, turned to Dom. “I wouldn’t object to a bit of surfing, eh?”  
Dom was inclined to agree.

*

Once out in the water, Dom found himself falling into the delicate sway of the water, in between the brutal crash of the short waves. The contrast rather reminded him of his life.

He paddled farther and farther out, until the women talking politely to Billy were just dots on the sand, so far that their voices were drowned out by the slosh of his feet in the water.

Here the waves were taller, meaner, and Dom rather liked the challenge. But he was still tired and a bit unstable from the day before and that’d made him less than impressive on the water.

Bill on the other hand had been as good as ever; he’d had time, _made_ time, to practice.

The memory of Billy telling the girls of how he and his wife made a point to devote one day a week on the chilly shores of Scotland made Dom’s stomach roll more than the very bobbing water he was perched atop. He paddled out further, hoping to catch the next big wave.

The sun had peeped out overhead and drenched the beach in a sneaky dry heat, and Dom suddenly felt lightheaded. He hadn’t eaten breakfast.

Worry niggled at his mind, but he was too distracted by the blue topaz glitter of the dancing water to particularly care. He’d eat when he came back ashore.

He heard the rush of water behind him, and turned around, ready to take it—but he’d been distracted and before he could react, he and his board were being swallowed by a dark blue wave.

“This is like my dream,” he thought, even as the board connected with the bottom of the ocean floor, and ricocheted back onto his shoulder. His head connected with the bottom of the ocean floor and he knew no more.

*

He came to in a tiny hospital his back and shoulder aching against the stiff bed he lie on. The world was spinning rather like it would after a rowdy night of boozing, and elephants were tap dancing in his head.

All in all, he left like shite.

But if he thought he felt like shit he had no idea, if the scowl Billy was wearing on his face was a clue. The man looked beyond pissed. Dominic’s throat lurched.

He’d done it again. He’d ruined everything.

“You’re awake.” His voice was more than terse.

“Barely.” Dom tried to force a sheepish smile. “How long was I out?”

Billy crossed his legs, and folded his hands.

Shite, yeah, Billy was VERY pissed.

“Well, let me think. After an 18 mile ride to the hospital, they stopped the bleeding from your head, and made sure your shoulder wasn’t dislocated, I’d say ohh, a few hours.”

Dominic sighed. “You’ve been here all along? I’m sorry, Billy, you should have went back to the house.”

Billy started. “Went back to the—Dominic, what’s wrong with your head eh? How could I go back to the cabin knowing you’d nearly drowned? You were in the bloody water, fucking floating weightless. I thought the worst!”

Dominic fingered his bedspread. “M’sorry.”

“What possessed you to go the edge like that anyway? I thought we were enjoying ourselves.”

Dominic nodded, biting his lip against the searing pain the shot across his temple, and looked to the side, blinking past his wet lashes. “I was.”

“Then why did you withdraw like that? Dom, I—“

He never got a chance to finish was he was saying, because the nurse arrived then, discharge papers in hand.

Billy stared at Dom, from the time Dom signed for his release to the time Dom sunk into his car, silently asking Billy to drive. Dominic never looked back.

When they pulled into the neat streets of the town, Dominic’s stomach began to rumble loudly and he was once again reminded that he’d not eaten yet. Billy turned to him his lips still thin. “You need to eat, we both do.”

“Yeah,” Dom admitted though a tiny part of him felt he probably didn’t deserve such attention after putting Billy through such miserly all night.

“Let’s go here, it seems busy enough.” Billy pulled up to the busy pier parking, gesturing with one hand to a beach stand that was surrounded by hungry tourists.

Dom’s face must have revealed his discomfort because Billy’s expression softened a bit. His head ached beyond reason and already the high-pitched squeals of children and laughing adults made him dizzy.

“I could pick us up something and you could stay in the car if you like.” Billy held his hand down over Dom’s wrist, calming him.

“Yeah,” Dom mumbled. “That would be brilliant, Bills.”

Billy smiled slightly. “You’ve not called me that in years, Dommie.”

Dom lowered his lids, and by the time he lifted his eyes to reply, Billy was already out of the car, ordering food.

“I could say the same, Billy.”

*

The food, two sandwiches and some over-greased chips, was dreadful and Dom could scarcely get half down before he gave in and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. He could feel the grit of salt on his skin, and smell the faint tang of hospital, but his body would not comply with his thoughts of having a shower.

 _Tomorrow,_ he thought, sleepy from the painkiller the nurse had given him, and then his limbs grew heavy as lead, and he knew no more.


	7. Chapter 7

Billy’s arms burned as he cut through the waves, but he didn’t care.

He distantly heard the distressed cries of the women he was talking to behind him, but he didn’t care

All he cared about was the bright yellow board that was bobbing lazily in the water— _sans_ surfer.

Dom.

As soon as he’d seen the man pout and then drift off he’d known there would be trouble, but this— _this_.

His heart nearly stopped, and his eyes burned—from the salt water or the sting of tears that wanted to fall, he wasn’t sure. Dom had been under for too long, he’d have brain damage if he didn’t hurry. Yet it seemed to Billy that Dom was drifting too far away and no matter how hard he sliced through the water, Dom’s board drifted further, until it was on the edges of the horizon.

A few more paces and Dom would disappear.

But he didn’t. Somehow Billy swam up to the board, relieved to discover that, through some miracle, Dom had remained attached to his board, and once the wave had passed, the board had floated to the surface, dragging Dom with.

He lifted Dom with trembling arms, and made his slow progress back to the shore. He realized Dom was bleeding from somewhere, and icy fear gripped Billy around the throat.

For all he knew, Dom might not wake up.

 _Please,_ he thought, but he was unsure what he was asking for.

*

Billy shot up from the bed with a gasp, breathless. He’d been dreaming, remembering the terrifying moments before he found Dom floating in the water. He kept losing sight of Dom out there, the glare of the sun burning his eyes painfully as he paddled on. Dom’s body drifted, eerily peaceful at sea, and Billy ploughed on, choking past his fear that Dom might not wake up.

But he did wake up, hours later, blissfully unaware of the terror that had all but paralyzed Billy on the trip back to the hospital. Billy had not even asked permission to climb into the ambulance; he just shoved in, a hard look on his face silently daring the EMT to question his being there.

Later, he overheard them talking—they’d thought he was Dom’s lover, and Billy was too tired to bother correcting them. Let them think what they will, it wasn’t the first time.

Instead, he rolled his worries through his mind like putty, until the room blurred, and he feared he’d genuinely cry out in frustration and raw terror. The doctor emerged then, his scrubs pink in places from Dom’s blood, and Billy nearly fainted at the expression on the man’s face. He saw Dom in his mind – his face pale, his golden hair matted with clumped blood – and held his breath as the doctor delivered his prognosis.

“He’s going to be fine,” the surgeon had said, and to Billy it was like the first day of springtime.

If only he’d remembered that when Dom woke up.

Billy swallowed a guilty lump, and looked down beside him. Dom was dozing, a soft snore rumbling in the back of his throat.

He hadn’t meant to be so short with his friend, as he was truly relieved to be speaking to him, but Dom’s weak voice rubbed on his nerves, like a hand going against the grain of fur, and Billy lashed out. The fact that he’d had a tense discussion with Alison earlier that morning hadn’t done him any favors, either.

She was still quietly sulking—sulking over his absence, wondering about the trip and who was there. He knew as soon as she feigned casually asking how he and the boys were doing that she’d be more than unhappy to learn the “boys” had left Dom and he to their own devices for a week.

So he did what he had to do. He lied to her. Dom and Billy had turned making up stories into an art form over the years of doing Rings, so it was with relative ease that he was able to create some typical hijinks for the lads to have done during the day. She laughed, relief pouring over her voice, and the twang of guilt eased back.

He would be doing her no favors to rile her up. Especially considering her possible…condition.

Bastard though he might seem, he still found himself unable to wrap his mind around the prospect of being a father. He’d try to say it to himself in the mirror, and the feeling was like chalk on his tongue; he just couldn’t say it. He’d mouth it sometimes, when Dom wasn’t looking and the frustration would creep up like lava, until he’d just want to ball his fists up and scream. Usually poor Dom would appear then, as if he had a Billy bad-mood radar, and Billy would look past the love in Dom’s eyes, and lash, spitting something particularly hurtful. Then he’d slink away somewhere secluded; he wasn’t fit to be among people, particularly people that gave a damn about him, because lately, all he seemed to know how to do was kick them in return for their caring.

And Dom got the worst of it since he’d been in town, and like a puppy, his friend kept coming back.

Sometimes, selfish though it was, Billy worried Dom wouldn’t come back, because he knew he was too cowardly to pursue.

And none of these things did much to resolve his feelings about Alison. Starting a family had been on the agenda, but never something that was set to happen right away. Billy had thought they could talk about these things before doing them, had had faith in her diligence in taking birth control, and for her to do this—it just was impulsive and very much unlike her. She’d betrayed his trust and he found himself unable to work past it.

_Round and round the ferris wheel. Tell me how does it feel._

Maybe Viggo was right. Maybe his marriage was doomed to strife.

_Moving so fast._

Or maybe Billy just needed to buck up and deal with it—he did, after all, have some input on the situation.

_And going no where._

Beside him, Dom stirred, wincing sleepily as his head no doubt pounded with a fury only pain in the morning can bring. Billy winced sympathetically.

“Morning.” He smiled down, willing himself to get past the sight of Dom’s hair, still clumped with sand and sweat, and in places, a touch of blood.

“Hey,” Dom croaked, rubbing his eyes, and then groaning from the exertion of moving his bruised shoulder.

The two laid side by side for several moments then in silence, Billy wondering about Dom’s need for food and the like, until as if answering his thoughts, Dom’s stomach rumbled loudly, and both laughed softly.

“I guess I don’t have to ask you what you’re up for, eh?”

Dom lowered his lashes—a gesture that always made Billy’s stomach flip-flop, and then dug at his sticky eyes. “No, I guess you don’t. Shower first, yeah?”

He gingerly pulled himself up, Billy following him should he need a steadying arm, and then slowly scuffed into the bathroom down the hall.

Billy waited outside, rolling Dom’s last comment through his mind. “Shower first? That an invitation?”

He knew Dom would hear the smile on his lips, and rested his palm against the rough grain of the wooden door.

“It could be; God knows this shower is big enough.”

The toilet flushed, and then his voice echoed as he presumably stuck his head into the cavernous shower to emphasize his point.

“We could fit the entire fellowship in here.”

Billy crossed his arms, grinning at the newly emerged Dom.

“Ah, yes, I bet we could, but then we’d have a porno on our hands.”

Dom scratched his ass, as he dug out his toiletries, and then gave Billy a sidelong glance.

“And that would be a bad thing?”

*

Forty minutes later he and Dom emerged into the overcast town in search of food, having decided the dinner from the night before was deplorable. The main street held quite a few quaint shops, but now both men were suspicious as they certainly didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

But before the decision could be made, they decided to stop at the local grocer for firewood and a few household supplies they’d used up already during the course of the two days. Billy had groused for Dom to hurry up move his arse inside to get what they needed, but then opted to join him in favor of soaking up the air conditioning rather than bake in the sneaky heat of the hazy afternoon sun and the old BMW.

Inside, the grocer was a tiny establishment, full of tourist junk in the front, and more common household goods toward the back and sides. Dom made a beeline for the aisle furthest from the door, having heard a pack of teen girls arrive, and Billy tucked his hat and followed suit, finding himself in the feminine care aisle. Beside him, a young woman stopped, a basket on her arm, as she ticked off another item in her list, and mumbled softly to herself that she needed tampons.

Billy ducked his head, hoping she’d not notice that the tips of his ears were red.

She didn’t.

Having acquired her purchase, she brushed past him, so engrossed in her shopping that she didn’t even see him, and in the tumble, her basket fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The teens in the front fell silent, and the grocer looked up from his register and Billy fell to his knees before the mob found him. The woman followed suit, her brown bangs bobbing slightly as she stammered an apology and gathered her groceries.

“I’m so sorry, miss.”

She blushed, her lips pressed hard against her teeth, and then looked up at him shyly.

“No no, it’s my fault…I….”

She darted her eyes away, too shy still to speak, and Billy smiled. She recognized him. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Dom’s arrival.

“If you’re out from the twee Bop crew, they’ve left, all sporting the ‘uninteresting’ hobbit’s autograph.”

The young woman snorted, but didn’t look up from her task.

Dom grinned, and arched an eyebrow.

“Funny, innit?”

She looked up, her round face pale.

“Oh no, actually. I think you’re very interesting.” Her eyes roved over the bandage over his temple and the faint bruise on his cheek, and then she looked back at the floor.

“Well, thank you,” Dom sniffed.

“He can’t get no respect,” Billy deadpanned, attempting a disastrous impersonation of Rodney Dangerfield, and she and Dom fell into a state of giggles.

“It’s yet to be perfected,” Billy assured her, and having picked up the last item from the floor, stood up.

“You live near here?” Dom asked the woman.

“I do.” She didn’t volunteer more.

Billy raked his hand against the back of his head. “Do you know of a decent place to eat? We went somewhere yesterday…”

“On the beach?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah!” Dom nodded.

She shook her head.

“Go to the Shanty. I recommend the crab melt.”

Dom nodded. “Where would that be?”

She smiled, already walking away from them. “Across the street.”

“Right then!” Billy called after her, as the grocer let her past the checkout line.

“Put it on my tab,” she said, and headed for the door.

“Thanks—er, we don’t know your name!” Dom called after her.

She smiled again, still shy, and as she cleared the door, replied, “But I know yours! Nice to meet you!”

The two stood in a shocked silence.

“Huh.” Billy grunted. “How do you like that?”

Dom just pulled at his arm. “I like it just fine if it means I get to eat! I’m starving. We shouldn’t have slept so late. Let’s go!”

*

Just as the woman had promised, the Sea Shanty was across the street, surrounded by delicate flowers and sailing memorabilia. Once they pushed past the rickety screen door, they found themselves in a tiny restaurant that was casual and packed with people. A young blonde waitress bounded forward, menus in hand, and with a dimpled smile led them to seats in a rounded corner booth that had just been vacated.

Dom leaned back resting his head on the white vinyl, and when he opened his eyes, chuckled dryly.

“What?” Billy asked, and then followed his glance. Overhead, an assortment of baseball hats were pinned, each touting either a biting observation or a team’s name. The waitress appeared, and the two paused to read the menu and place their orders before returning their attention back to the hats.

Billy was particularly fond of _“I must be a proctologist because all I see is assholes.”_

By the time each had read and pointed out their favorite, their appetizers had arrived along with their drinks, and they set into eating in a comfortable silence—the first in days.

By the time the artichoke was a skeleton of its former glory, the food arrived and they dug in.

Like hobbits, they had little room for conversation when eating, and it was only when the biting hunger ebbed that they could slow down enough to talk.

Dom rubbed his flat belly, and sighed contentedly. “This was fantastic.”

Billy burped into his napkin, and nodded his head. “It was.”

“Hey Billy, did you know the owner of this place was named Billy?”

Billy smiled. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“No wonder the food is so good here.”

Dom rubbed his face and leaned onto the table. “I don’t think so. I’m betting this Billy has a friend or lover that’s back there cooking, because we know you can’t cook for shite.”

“Oi! I resent that comment. I can cook!”

Dom snorted. Truth be told, Billy could get by as far as cooking goes, while Dom, on the other hand, was quite skilled in the kitchen.

“I’m betting there’s some poor bloke back there, with a ‘Dom’ name tag, slaving in the kitchen.”

Billy patted his upper lip. “Sure, the tag says Dom, but the name’s Dominique.”

Dominic laughed, his eyes narrowing into happy, curved slits, and Billy’s stomach lurched again, leaving him in a place that hovered between pleasant and not.

Once recovered, Dom eyed the sky warily. “It looks dangerous out there.”

“The radio says there’s a storm coming in,” The waitress commented as she took their plates away. “You guys want the dessert menu?”

Dom nodded eagerly, and Billy laughed. “I think that’s a yes.”

“Alright.”

“It’s gonna rain.” Dom mumbled, his voice rumbling, even as lightning cracked across the sky, and the first fat droplets of water fell to the ground with a loud splat.

“You’re psychic.” Billy teased, dodging the napkin thrown at him.

“You’re psycho.” Dom’s lips curled around the word, and his eyes sparkled again, matching the heavy clouds overhead.

Thunder rolled across the town, and Billy’s stomach lunged, from fear or the faintest trace of arousal, he wasn’t sure.

“We’re gonna get soaked going into the cabin.” Dom peeped outside again.

And then Billy was hit with the memory of their first night, and a shiver laced down his spine, remembering the solid press of Dom’s hips against his.

It was not a position he was up for repeating tonight—he wasn’t sure if he’d react the same way this time.

He raised his hand for the check, deciding they should skip dessert.

*

They returned to the cabin, wet as Dom predicted, and breathless from the mad dash from Dom's small car up the steps to the door. Once inside, Billy shook out his short, spiked hair, and Dom raked his hands through his, the sandy-blond locks clinging to his head and making him appear like a little boy in Billy's eyes.

Except little boys didn't have lips that shone like Dom's did, and they certainly didn’t have eyes that glittered like Dom's.

Billy shook himself mentally, and padded down the hallway to stoke up the fire, though in truth, it wasn't particularly cold outside, thanks to the balmy summertime heat. Still, the house had an unnatural cool about it, and he knew that their wet clothes would do them no favors in the damp inside of the house.

When he returned to the tiny living room, he found Dom...well, dancing. He had his arms out, as if embracing an imaginary partner, and his tongue was out, his face screwed up in concentration. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, but died as soon as he saw the pained look Dom gave him upon realizing he'd seen him.

He cleared his throat, a smile still teasing his lips, and feigned a casual tone.

"Dom, what are you doing?"

Redness bloomed across Dom's cheeks, though he didn't stop, he kept moving his feet in jerky "right" "left" "step-step" motions.

"I'm dancing."

"Dancing." Billy parroted, his lips curled into a full smile, as he realized Dom was reading from a book that he'd placed on the floor. Billy could see the big black footprints from where he was standing.

"I ah--one, two, cha cha cha--need to get ready for a role I'm reading for when I get back..."

Billy folded his arms. "I see. And um, is this role an important one to you?"

Dom stopped dancing. "Very. It's a lead."

Billy's eyebrows shot up. He wanted to ask why Dom hadn't felt comfortable to share this with him, but as soon as his lips fixed to ask it, the memory of how terrible he'd been over the past few days came crashing down on him.

He felt the strong conviction to make up for it somehow.

"I could help you, Dom. I mean, it's easier to learn with a partner, you know."

Dom cast him a sidelong glance, though his feet kept moving.

"You'd do that?"

Billy's face lit into a genuine smile. "Of course."

Dom stopped dancing. "Okay."

Billy positioned himself in front of Dom, his left arm wrapping around Dom's waist, as his right hand curled around Dom's. "Now, pretend I'm a girl."

Dom cocked an eyebrow.

"It's either that, or you're dancing with a bloke, my friend."

Dom raised both eyebrows, but slid his right hand down to rest on Billy's lower back, as he began to gently pull Billy into a sway.

"Wait, wait." Billy murmured, unsure why he spoke so softly.

"What is it?" Dom rumbled, only just louder than the rain.

"We need music."

 

Dom sprung into action as if waking from a dream, and dug in his duffel bag, producing a homemade CD with the word "Salsa" written in his familiar scrawl across the top of it. He put the disc into the player, and moments later, a cheerful voice echoed throughout the cabin.  
  
_"Suavemente, bésame te quiero sentir tus labios besándome otra vez..."_  
  
Dom began to shake his hips in sync to the music, making a series of goofy faces, and Billy threw his head back, laughing.  
  
Dom's facade broke, and he fell into giggles with Billy.  
  
"Come here." Billy held his hand out, and drew him close until their hips touched. "The secret to any dance boils down to two things: finding the rhythm, and knowing the steps."

Dominic nodded his head, and let Billy use his hand to guide him to the steps that the book displayed.  
  
“It’s just a basic three step dance…” Bill’s voice trailed off as he and Dom fell into a tentative rhythm.  
  
Dom nodded again, his eyes fixed on his feet.  
  
“Look at me, Dom. You’re thinking too hard.”  
  
Billy tiled his chin up and smiled, and Dom grinned bashfully. “I guess you’re right. I can’t help it.”  
  
Billy laughed. “It’s kind of a genetic predisposition, Dommie.”  
  
Dom snorted. “So, how did you learn this?”  
  
Billy looked down again, making sure to keep his face neutral, even as he set Dom up to spin him.  
  
“Ali taught me.” Billy answered softly. He hoped Dom didn’t hear, but as soon as he spoke, he felt rather than saw Dom stiffen.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
The music changed then, as if matching the sudden dip in the climate. A soft series of trumpets introduced the new song, and Dom seemed to shake off whatever bother he’d felt, and looked at Billy with a thin smile.  
  
“It’s a good thing she did, or else you’d not be able to save me.”  
  
At that, Billy forced a laugh. He never guessed his wife would see the day when she saved Dom.

A woman’s deep voice began to fill the room with a chorus, and Dom spun Billy around.  
  
_“Ay! Porque llorar, porque la vida es un carnival y más bello que vivir cantando... Ay! Porque llorar, la vida es un carnival y las penas se van a cantando....”_  
  
“I wonder what she’s saying,” Billy murmured, looking out the window at the palm trees swinging in the rainy breeze.  
  
The music continued, and the two moved in a thoughtless rhythm, the mood so quiet Billy thought perhaps Dom hadn’t heard him.  
  
But then he spoke, his voice rough as sandpaper.  
  
“She’s saying “Don’t cry. Because life is a carnival and the troubles will be singing. Don’t cry, because life is a carnival, and it’s better to live singing.”  
  
Billy pulled back from him, shocked, but Dom wouldn’t meet his eyes.  
  
“Well, that’s the rough translation, at least.” Dom sniffed.  
  
Billy’s feet kept moving, despite the constriction in his chest, and the tempo changed again, and Dom was roused into a new activity, his feet moving faster as he danced alone. His hand flew to his waist, the other in the air, and he spun in a circle, the familiar goofy grin back on his face.  


_"Nunca está solo..."_  
  
When the music faded away, Billy applauded, but Dom cut him off, pulling him back into the swaying dance they’d been in before.  
  
“Where’d you learn that?”  
  
He chose not to mention how he noticed Dom was better at the dancing than he’d let on.  
  
“I read the CD cover before I burned it.”  
  
Billy laughed. “And your moves?”  
  
“Been getting up early since the day I picked you up, practicing obsessively. Not to mention those times when you’re taking _forever_ in the loo…”  
  
Billy motioned to swat Dom on the head, but the younger man ducked with a squawk.  
  
“Oi! No killing the dancer!”  
  
Billy laughed. “I’ll show you! Death to Twinkletoes Monaghan!”  
  
Dom pulled away and ran down the hall. “You got the wrong bloke! He’s my third cousin, twice removed! He lives just outside Kent!”  
  
Billy followed him, laughing so hard tears shone in his eyes and then tackled Dom onto the tiny bed, the two landing with a grunt. Their limbs tangled, and their breath left damp places on each of their necks, as they lie together, unmoving.  
  
It was only when Dom’s eyes darkened, that Billy felt the urge to move.  
  
“I should, uh…”  
  
“Yeah,” Dom agreed, though neither seemed very sure what they were agreeing to.  
  
Billy unwrapped himself from around Dom’s body, instantly missing the heat, and forced himself down the hall into the living room.

He’d find something to occupy himself with.

*

The something turned into tea and the take-away brownies they’d ordered from the Shanty, enjoyed by the fireside.

Dom curled up on the bear rug, clinging to the giant mug, his face washed by the shadows of the rain pouring down on the window as they sat in silence.

Billy’s mind wandered, back to Scotland and the wife waiting for him, and he was struck with the realization that he’d not sat like this with Ali since they’d gotten married.

_Is it lonely?_

He wondered what happened between them that he’d not be able to sit in the same room.

_Lonely?_

Dom turned the, his face crinkling up into smile cast in a red-orange glow and a small voice reminded Billy that perhaps he’d know all along what had come between them.

“Tuppence for your thoughts?”

Billy laughed into his mug.  
“Where did you hear that expression?”

Dom grinned. “Doodle.”

“It figures.” Billy sat his sweets down on the plate beside the fire. “I was just thinking of how much our lives have changed since the wedding.”

Since Billy’s resolve had snapped, and he’d taken what he wanted from Dominic, leaving this shell of a man to pick up the pieces.

“I haven’t changed, Billy. You have.” Dom replied, and them rose to put the dishes in the washer.

Billy was left holding his mug in a white knuckle grip at Dom’s gentle words, though he was unsure why he was so unsettled.

*

“Tell me about this role of yours, Dom.” Billy prodded easily, once the two got settled into the 70s-style wicker lounge chairs that were propped in either corner of the living room.

Dom put down his Game Boy, and thought for a moment.

“He’s a dreamer.”

Billy laughed. “Fancy you playing him.”

Dom’s face hardened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Billy immediately regretted his joke. He didn’t mean to belittle Dom. “I was just joking, Dom.”

Dom looked down onto game again. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just a bit touchy. I did just bump my head you know.”

He looked up through his lashes, a smile tugging at his lips, and both of them snorted.

*

“Come on, Billy, just give it up!”

Billy ground his back teeth, and narrowed his eyes. “If you’d just shut your fucking gob, I’d be able to concentrate long enough to do this.”

Dom fell silent, his pout tangible from the other side of the room, where Billy was up on a chair, feebly trying to connect the Playstation to the mounted telly.

Billy sighed, after his tenth attempt failed, and got down from the chair. They’d been snapping at one another since Billy had asked about the new role was playing, and though the two always found their good humor again, with each time, both were finding it harder and harder to regroup to a place of calm.

A familiar skittish anger managed to rest on the back of Billy’s neck, and he fought the urge to throttle Dom for no better reason than for being Dom.

“Look, Dom, I’m sorry.”

Dom looked up from over the back of the chair, and rolled his eyes. “I’m no girl. I’m used to you when you’re peevish. I can take it.”

_But you shouldn’t have to._

Billy swallowed past the chalk in his mouth. “Look, we’re both just feeling out of sorts with the weather changing like it did. I know your head must hurt.”

Dom frowned, and rose from his chair, suddenly angry. “I told you it’s fine, so just leave me alone about it, okay?”

Billy blinked. “I was just inquiring about your health.”

“What gives you the right to do so? It’s not like you’ve ‘inquired’ much for the past year.”

“Oh? And how about you? It’s not like you’ve been the best friend in the world since I’ve gotten married. I thought the best man was supposed to be at the first anniversary, but I can’t remember you being there.”

“‘Been the best friend?’ How could I, huh, Billy? When did you let me in?”

Both fell silent, Dom’s shout harsh in the small cabin.

“Dom, what’s going on here? You’ve changed.” Billy’s hands were hot, limp at his sides.

Dom shook his head. “We both have, Bills. I don’t know, it’s like we can’t…be around each other anymore.”

Fear licked up Billy’s sternum, and he stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Dom—“

“Stop saying sorry.”

Billy froze. “But I am.”

Dom inhaled, as if a gun had fired, and snatched up his coat.

“We both are, Billy.”

He opened the door, and the roar of the rain falling filled the small cabin as he stepped out into the storm.

Billy stared, blinking several times until the harsh realization set in: this time, he’d have to follow Dom.

*

Dominic stumbled across the wet sand as he blinked past the falling rain, miserable. A deranged broken record played in his head, his mind reeling from the image of he and Billy pressed together, dancing on the wood floors as the rain blew down onto the windows. The rich tones of Celia Cruz rose and fell, off rhythm to the rush of the rain in his ears, as he plowed forward, unsure of where he was going.

He’d broken the promise he made to himself, the promise not to fight with Billy anymore. They were friends, damnit, and had been for too long to let what stood between them ruin everything.

_Round and round the ferris wheel, tell me how does it feel._

But then Billy was accusing him of not being there, reminding him of just how he’d failed to be a real friend, and an ugly truth became realized to Dom.

He couldn’t be Billy’s friend anymore.

_Moving so fast._

They’d ruined their friendship the minute they’d introduced sex into the equation. Sex without feeling, that is.

_And going no where._

But there was feeling, Dom knew, feeling on his part. He’d loved Billy for years, had long been able to admit this, but the problem…the problem was…

Billy didn’t love him back.

Dom coughed and spat onto the sand, his nose running—from tears or the cool rain, he couldn’t be sure.

_Porque llorar? La vida es un carnival y las penas van a cantando…_

All this time, all these years, he’d been at Billy’s side, been the epitome of a true friend, and Billy never saw.

Or maybe never cared.

His meandering path along the ragged shore had taken him to a portion where the rocks sprawled out to the water. He could stop there, and turn back to the cabin, or venture a few inches into the water, and see what was on the other side.

He looked back at the near mile he’d walked thus far, and decided a mile wasn’t nearly far enough away.

He took off his shoes and stepped into the water. His toes connected with something slimy, no doubt a piece of seaweed, and he hissed. He hated for his feet to be wet.

The water, for all the raging waves, had little pull here, and he had no problem clearing the outcropping to find that this portion of the beach was more like a nook in which he could sit on the low rocks and collect his thoughts. He climbed up, shoes still in hand, and looked out at the grey sea, his breathing drowned out by the sounds of the roaring rain and moving water.

Overhead, the storm clouds circled. He watched as they floated out a few miles at sea, and then carried sheets of rain ashore.

It was like a vicious cycle.

_Oh oh oh ay! Porque llorar?_

His hair was beyond wet, and hung onto his aching head in thin clumps, and his nose was all red. He knew he looked like more than shit. He probably looked rather like a clown. It was fitting, really; he was, after all, the circus clown. The fallout guy who never failed to make people smile.

His mind wandered then, the anger ebbing away, leaving him with only a soft sadness that came from knowing the inevitability of his case.

He and Billy couldn’t be friends, and he’d have to be the one to tell him.

Just as anger flared up – why should he have to be the one to initiate things? – he heard a disturbance in the shallow water that trailed down from the rock face behind him, and he looked up to see Billy plowing through the shallows.

He’d snatched on a jumper – Dom’s blue one – and was barefoot, looking chilled despite the warm air that the rain was falling through.

He also looked very small and vulnerable, a position Dom had never seen him in, and Dom had to close his fists to stop himself from leaping off the rock and consoling his friend against whatever the world had offered him to put him in that state.

This time, he knew, there would be no consolation, because he was what the world had given Billy to deal with, and he was just too much.

Billy stood staring, and after a few beats Dom stood up, wondering seriously if Billy had taken a fall along the way, and perhaps it was some injury, not their argument that afforded the worried look on Billy’s face. He waited a fair amount of space from his friend, and worried his eyebrows.

“Billy?”

Billy slid a wet hand over his hair, pressing the sandy spikes down until his receding hairline shone in the rain, and exhaled. Water sprayed from his curled lips, and dripped down his chin, but the older man didn’t seem to notice.

Fear knotted Dom’s stomach, and in an instant he found himself giving in, already ready to offer an apology for his mood, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Billy inhaled, and interrupted him.

"I swam for you, Dom." Billy swiped at the water that crashed into his eyes, and shifted his weight on his feet.

Dom frowned, not quite understanding, but remained silent. His mind flickered back to the lull he fell into in the moments before he blacked out, and he felt tremendously guilty. He’d not thought of the fear that he’d inflicted upon Billy.

"I swam for you, until my arms burned, but," his voice choked, and thunder rumbled overhead. "But the closer I came, the more you drifted, until you disappeared on the horizon."

The crack was unmistakable – Billy was crying, something Dom had only witnessed a handful of times in their friendship, and the realization that he’d cause it made Dom’s head spin. Thunder rippled across the sky as the clouds got darker. Dom blinked past the water that dripped into his eyes, and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"I've been right here, Billy." He wiped his nose. "Right here."

“I know, Dom.” Billy sighed, already taking a few hesitant steps forward. “I know now, and I see you.” His arms gently wrapped around Dom as he hugged him, his chin digging into Dom’s shoulder. He pulled back, until his face was so close Dom’s eyes crossed, and he whispered again. “I see you.”

Dom’s eyes fluttered closed, his body numb from more than the pounding rain, and then his brain short-circuited, as Bill’s lips pressed against his in a whisper-soft kiss. Dom’s arms slid up around Billy and his fingers splayed over Bill’s shoulder blades as they deepened the kiss. His head grew light, and he pressed himself fully into Billy, until the older man was all but holding him up.

The world grew fuzzy, and Dom felt himself slipping, Bill’s worried voice filtering in and out of his fading consciousness.

*

He woke up tucked in bed, the fire crackling and so big that his nose was dried out from the heat. Billy was nowhere to be found, though Dom suspected he hadn’t gone too far.

As if reading his mind, he heard Billy slam the door as he came in. He was breathless, as if he’d run from the car to the house, and Dom listened to each soggy footstep, knowing without seeing that Billy would be sure to close the umbrella and put it away, and then dutifully remove his wet shoes.

Sure enough, the umbrella can rang, and then the clump of the shoes fell silent, and moments later, Billy padded down the hallway, having changed into thick socks, and looked down at the bed with worried eyes.

Dom’s gaze fell shyly away.

“You’re awake. How do you feel?” Billy knelt beside the bed, his knees resting on the massive bear rug that lay beside the fireplace.

“Embarrassed,” Dom admitted. “How did you get me home?”

Worry flashed across Bill’s face. “You and I walked home, Dom. Well, you half-stumbled, but once I got you back on your feet, you could walk to the car. You don’t remember?”

Try has he might, he couldn’t. “No.”

The worry still lined Billy’s face, but Dom could see him reasoning it out. “Probably a side effect of the bump on your head. The doctor warned that this could happen. I shouldn’t have let you go. You tried to do too much too soon.”

“I’m fine,” Dom insisted.

Billy narrowed his eyes.

“I am. Really.” A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered their kiss, a kiss Billy had initiated, sober. “Better than I have been in years.”

Billy must have recognized the grin on his face, because his cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head, smiling. “Glad to have been of service, Dommie.” He fished his fingers in Dom’s just dry hair.

A shiver ran down Dom’s spine, and he hissed. “You’re cold.” He pulled Billy up into the bed, but Billy protested, pulling back. “No, I’m still wet, Dom—“

The two lost their balance and Dom toppled forward, landing atop Billy on the rug with a sore grunt, taking the bundle of blankets he was tangled up in with him.

“Or we could just lie here on the floor,” Billy declared, his voice as squashed as he probably felt.

“Oi! I’m not that heavy,” Dom protested, shifting to get comfortable, and secretly thrilling as he felt Billy stir beneath him.

“I know you’re not, Dom,” Billy breathed.

The fire popped and a new wave of heat flared across their faces and down to Dom’s belly.

Sore head or no, he knew he wanted Billy, and knew that Billy still wanted him too.

“Dom,” Billy warned.

“I can’t be your friend anymore, Billy,” he declared softly.

Billy swallowed and looked into his eyes.

“I know, Dom.”

“And I…want you.”

Bill nodded, his cheeks redder than before, if that was possible.

“I…know that too.”

“Wanted you all along, I daresay, head injury or no.” Dom smiled, and Billy snorted, then his face fell serious.

Dom sucked in his breath. “And, the thing is—“

A string of declarations leapt into Dom’s mouth, but then Billy’s lips found his, and they were kissing again, and all rational thought left Dom’s mind. He drank in the taste of Billy and the feel of his sharp teeth scraping across Dom’s tongue and lips, as if he wanted to leave a deeper impression than he had the first time around.

And then their hips started to move, creating a friction Dom thought only happened in his dreams, each move sparking fire in his groin that flared and demanded more. His head spun, and his eyes rolled back, and at this, Billy fretted and pulled back.

“You’ll faint again, lad.”

“No, I won’t,” Dom panted. “I promise I won’t.” He rolled onto his back, awkwardly pulling Bill atop him, until their positions were resumed—just reversed, so that Billy could do the brunt of the work.

Not that Billy seemed to mind.

He made short work of getting them naked, and eagerly rubbed his cock against Dom’s, sighing with every press of their hips together.

But both wanted more.

Dom felt his belly ache as he remembered Billy pressing him into the stall of the bathroom, and a mixture of sadness and desire squished his chest, even as he panted a plea for Billy to find something—fast, so that he could fuck him. The other want, the soft plea for something _more_ began to stir in his mind, but he pushed that back viciously, desiring to have Billy like this, than no way at all.

After a few clumsy moments (in which Billy found the stash of lube and condoms Dom always kept in his suitcase—praise god—and nervously prepared him), the giddiness faded away, and a solemn softness fell between the two of them.

Billy’s eyes fluttered shut as he slid into Dom, and the sight of the shadows of falling rain on his face made Dom’s chest hurt. He arched his back as the feeling of fullness overwhelmed him, and he knew that between his swirling head and the lean body moving above him, he’d not last very long.

He was right.

Billy’s hands pressed down on Dom’s knees as he spread them out and up toward Dom’s shoulders, and continued snapping his hips in sync with Dom’s arching back. Billy threw his head back then, his lips parted so that his sharp teeth shone in the mixture of streetlight and rain, and abruptly Dom sunk into a misery he’d not felt since the night of Billy’s wedding. A wild part of him had fancied this would make things right, that his dire conclusion on the beach had been wrong, yet here he was, again, making the same mistake twice.

The shadows of the rain poured down over their naked bodies like dark blue paint, so like the tears that’d fallen over the years since that night, and Dom closed his eyes to stave off the lump that lodged itself in his throat.

_Porque llorar? La vida es un carnival…_

Billy pulled his hand away from Dom’s knees and wrapped it around Dom’s cock, and in just a few more thrusts Dom felt himself spill over Billy as he arched his back to the extreme and gasped.

Moments later, Billy’s hips stilled, and Dom felt his twitching cock begin to fall soft as he pulled out and did away with the condom.

Dom felt tired then, more tired than he’d felt all weekend, and was only half-aware of the damp cloth that was being swiped across his belly before Billy pressed beside him, kissing his damp temple and murmuring something sleepily to him.

Dom wasn’t sure what he said, but he knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

And then sleep crept up behind his eyes, and he drifted off, his mind racing despite his fatigue, as a million “what ifs” and “what nows” crossed his mind.

The thunder rumbled in response to his racing thoughts, and he fell into sleep, even as his stomach rolling warningly.

Billy lie beside him, his face already relaxed in sleep, no doubt oblivious to the storm that brewed inside Dom. Dom would make sure he never knew.

 _La vida es más bella cuando está cantando…_  
.


	8. Chapter 8

Billy woke up with sunlight burning his sticky eyelids, and a warm Dom pressed against his side snoring softly. They were still on the floor. He blinked, and the memory of their night flashed before him, eliciting a maelstrom of emotions he was no where near capable of dealing with before tea and a trip to the loo. Upon disentangling himself from Dom, he peeped down; smiling at the sight of the younger man sprawled and tangled among the cheesy bear rug and blankets, and then padded down the hallway.

Last night had been…incredible, as well as confusing. He could acknowledge he was a grown man - and therefore more than capable of owning up to his actions, but he genuinely had no idea when he’d woken up yesterday morning that he’d wake up the following morning with his best friend naked and shagged beside him. He could still smell Dom on his skin for Christ’s sake. His mind wandered to thoughts of food and a shower, but in the end, he’d just washed his face and brushed his teeth, shyly finding the greatest desire he had was to simply re-join Dom in bed, and lounge.

The plan changed however when he returned to the room and found Dom awake, and pulling on clothes. Awkwardness flooded the room.

“Morning,” Billy croaked, clearing his throat again and repeating, so as not to sound so pathetic.

“Good morning,” Dom mumbled, never the morning person anyway, as he slid on a shirt.

Billy felt decidedly naked, as he was, and his eyes darted across the floor for something to cover his…body. As if reading his mind, Dom handed him sweats - his sweats, and Billy’s tee shirt.

“You hungry? Or…” He hesitated over the next word, fully understanding the double meaning. “Sore?”

Dom snorted, sleepy but ever a pervert, and nodded his head. “I could do with some toast, and maybe tea…”

Billy slid on his pants. “Let me put on water then.”

Dom nodded, and headed into the living room, Billy following.

“So what’s the plan for today, Dom?”

“I was thinking we could stay in…just…relax.” Something flickered in Dom’s eyes, but Billy wasn’t sure how to read it.

Relax. Yes. Billy could do that. Relax.

*

The fact that Billy found himself creeping into the bathroom was just as surprising to him as he would prove to be to Dom. He’d heard the water start running, and had casually nodded as Dom announced his plan to bathe, but he didn’t really think he’d get up and join him. There was just something so intimate to be said of showering with someone, something Billy usually found he reserved for someone he was in a relationship with.

And that was something he found he didn’t want to think about right now. Relationship. Dom. No matter how he tried to broach the topic he always came back feeling queasy.

But not so queasy as to prevent him from stripping down and sliding behind Dominic in the wet blanket of steam.

His cock twitched pleasantly once he was in the shower, little chilly sparks jolting up from the bottoms of his feet against cold tile. Water sluiced down the firm curve of Dominic’s back, bouncing off his tailbone and spraying warm onto Billy’s abdomen, and his resolve to keep this innocent began to quiver. Years he’d know Dominic was a thing of beauty, poncy as that sounded, and years he’d spent trying to figure out what that meant for him.

Problem was, years and many foolish actions later, he still hadn’t worked out what it all meant. Which in itself was a source of consternation. Billy prided himself in being a man of reason and sensibility, and yet he’d been anything but since he’d befriended Dominic.

Dominic was like liquor in his veins, made the world topsy turvy and made him forget who he was and what he stood for, and like Mr. Hyde, Billy often found himself morphed into a new man around him.

_Round and round the ferris wheel, tell me how does it feel._

Problem was Billy wasn’t sure what the hell had happened to his Dr. Jekyll. The pussy git seemed to run off once the heat had faded, and Billy was inept as explaining himself, or making things right again.

_Moving so fast._

He rather wondered if he’d have a tragic end too.

Dominic must have felt his maudlin train of thought because he turned around bright eyed and red cheeked, and handed Billy soap, just as calm about their positions as if it was the most innocent thing in the world.

Right. Like boyhood friends, they were.

_And going no where._

Well, until Billy touched Dom. Then the boys ran from the room, because Billy’s hands raked down Dominic’s back, stubby fingers creasing the skin as he soaped Dominic up, and then his thumb slipped into the crease of his ass just a hair, ghosting across the skin before his fingers spider-walked back up, to rub the sore triangle of muscle on Dom’s lower back.  
Dominic tilted his head against the tile, eyes closed under the spray and moaned softly in appreciation, and Billy was suddenly overcome with the urge to rest his cheek in the space between Dom’s shoulders.

So he did.

“There you go, Billy.”

“Hmm?” Billy asked, realizing he’d already started to doze.

“Relaxing. You’re finally relaxing.”

A million reasons and deadlines and pending pregnancy tests danced in the shadows, leering at Billy and telling him why he certainly could not relax, but Dom would see none of this, because Billy stayed silent, and nodded dumbly against Dom’s damp skin.

*  
Hours later soft music was filling the house, as the men had bathed, and then eaten a light breakfast before venturing to the porch to enjoy the new sunshine. Dom dug out his paint set, and planted himself on the deck, his skin glowing in the soft light as he started painting the garden. Inspired by the soft mood, Billy did relax, and settled himself in a chair in the garden, and began strumming his guitar, occasionally singing snippets of a song taken from here and there.

All in all, it was a perfect day.

Conversation had been sparse, but the stiffness of the morning had melted away with the quiet, and if Billy closed his eyes, he found he could forget for a few moments the past between them, and the wife waiting for him at home.

Just before lunchtime, Dom rose from his chair, mouthing something Billy couldn’t hear because Dom’s salsa CD had come on again, and the song—Dom’s song, was rumbling through the house. Dom disappeared inside, and then the music was silenced, abruptly breaking the calm Billy and he had fallen under, and piquing Billy’s curiosity.

_Oh oh oh ay! Porque llorar?_

What was Dom doing in there?

When the man didn’t emerge after a few moments, Billy rose from his chair, placing his guitar on the grass, and walked up the steps to see what had Dom’s attention. He paused as he passed Dom’s easel, shocked and flattered to discover Dom wasn’t just painting the garden, he’d painted a soft blurred image of Billy and his guitar at the center of the painting. Billy was admittedly impressed—Dom had become quite good, and he noted the soft colors he’d used to capture the small flowers, and the way the man had bathed Bill’s silhouette in light, as if the sun only shined for him. It was telling, and made Bill’s throat clench. Smiling, and ready to shower Dom with compliments, he rushed into the house, the door closing with a loud bang behind him. Before him he found Dom on the phone, and he smiled.

“Who is it?”

_La vida es un carnaval…_

“The lads?” Dom queried into the mouthpiece holding a hand up to silence him.

Billy knit his eyebrows, at Dom’s perplexed tone, and then dread washed over him as he saw the play of emotions cross Dom’s face.

“Alison, here’s Billy.”

Billy swallowed, knowing without Dom’s saying just what the conversation had turned to, and with a clenched jaw, and he lowered his eyes. Dom placed the phone down onto the side table, and erupted into a flurry of action, snatching keys, and his half packed duffel bag from the table.

“Dom, where are you—“

“I have to go. I can’t stay here with you, Billy.”

“Dom—“

“I knew you had problems, and I knew things were off between us, but I never fancied you to be such a selfish arsehole that you’d turn to lying.”

Despite the truth of his words, panic twisted Billy’s face. What had Dom told Alison?

“She knows nothing more than she can infer by your lying, Billy,” Dom spat, disgusted by Billy’s obvious calculation.

“We need to talk.” Billy was grasping for straws, he knew it.

“I can’t Billy. I can’t…be with you.” Dom’s eyes were glassy as he brushed past him, his whole body stiff as he murmured. “I’ll send someone to pick you up. Maybe Elijah, now that he’s been found.”

The door slammed shut and Billy was left with the bright sunshine, the chirping birds, the sad salsa song playing low on the radio, and a phone call he didn’t want to take.

“Alison.”

She was quiet for several moments, before she spoke, her voice thick with tears. “Don’t Billy. Just don’t.” She sniffled, and he heard her shift, no doubt sitting on the bed. I got my period, Billy. It was just late.”

His breath escaped with a low whoosh. “Ali, I’m sorry.”

“I said don’t!” She let out a soft sob. “I’ll send mum over to get me things. Bye.”

And then she hung up, leaving him to contemplate the dial tone along with the raging pandemonium in his head.

 _Y las penas van a cantando…_  
*

Elijah came to get him, cigarette hanging from his tight lips, and they didn’t say two words to one another for the entire 3 hour drive home. Once at Elijah’s flat, Billy dropped his bag and gently propped Dom’s unfinished painting on the counter, before retiring to the shadowed darkness of his guest bedroom, where he would force himself to sleep the rest of the day away.

 

Only sleep didn’t come, probably penance for his guilt, and at nightfall Elijah came in, his small frame leaning on the door, fag glowing as a delicate plume rose from the area near his mouth.

He figure was shadowed, an unearthly orange glow from the lights in the rooms behind him, highlighting his shape.

“You gonna come out?”

Billy flew a hand over his eyes, shutting them so tight he saw stars behind his eyelids. He had a killer headache.

“Mebbe…mebbe in a few, Elijah.”

Elijah sucked on his cig, his lips and eyes illuminated temporarily, revealing his worried face. Worry he tried to hide in a casually indifferent tone of voice.

“You really fucked up this time, you know.”

Billy sighed, smelling blood in his nasal cavity and nodded. A foreign stinging pricked the back of his eye lids, but he tamped it down.

He told himself to toughen up.

Boys don’t cry.

“I know,” he said at length.

Elijah pulled his cig from his mouth and Billy’s eyes followed it, fixated on the small orange ball.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Billy chewed his lip, and then his hands flew to his mouth, and he tasted the salt and the dryness of his skin. If he concentrated he could still taste the faint sweetness of the jam from their breakfast, and by proxy remember the spice of Dom’s lips.

“I plan on going home, Elijah, where I should have remained all along.” His eyes flew up, hard cool jade and bore into Elijah’s, satisfied to see the younger man’s eyes flicker in what he hoped was guilt.

For he too bore some blame in this mess.

“Maybe,” Elijah swallowed and his adam’s apple bobbled nervously. “Maybe that’s what is best after all.”

Billy nodded, the back of his head rubbing against the pillow.

“I think it is.”

He knew Elijah had more questions, questions about Alison, his marriage and if Billy had a plan beyond hopping on the next plane, but Billy left him no room for more questions, lest the man know he had no answers.

Because the truth of the matter was Billy was just as lost as Elijah seemed.


End file.
